I feel that resistance is futile. Shelby is still wired and not ready to head to bed. So I follow him and we find a seat by the window that looks onto the street. Clearly, Shelby feels that no one will spot him at this hour. A weary-looking waiter comes to take our order.
‘I’ll have a Jack Daniel’s,’ he says. ‘Molly?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ My headache isn’t easing and I just want to lie down. The carpet is like a multi-coloured migraine and there’s tinny muzak playing over a speaker right by our table.
‘Have something!’ He rolls his eyes at me.
‘A Baileys.’ ‘A Baileys,’ I echo to keep the peace and a few moments later the waiter reappears with a drink that I don’t want.
This is my moment to tell Shelby, I guess. The two of us, alone. I could prepare him before he has to talk to Lucas about the forthcoming baby. Reluctantly, I sip my Baileys and think of how to frame the words to make the least impact.
‘It’s bloody hard work this, and I’m not getting any younger,’ Shelby says. ‘I have to hold my own with these kids. You’ve seen what it’s like. The pace is relentless.’
‘At least you don’t get water thrown over you all the time like Wishee-Washee.’
‘All that bloody dry ice, though. It’s playing havoc with my throat.’ He rubs it to demonstrate.
I’m sure it is, but my mind is saying First world problems.
‘The hours are back-breaking. I’ve had to do this twice today. It’s exhausting.’
I put down my glass and it clinks loudly on the table. ‘But you don’t have to do it,’ I remind him. ‘There’s no need.’
He visibly bristles at that. ‘I have to work.’
‘Do you?’ I think of the mansion standing empty, the posh car, the chauffeur, the housekeeper. There must be plenty of dosh in the coffers. If he sold the house and drove his own car, he’d never need to act again.
‘Have you noticed, recently, who’s funding Hope Farm? Those bloody animals are literally eating me out of house and home.’
Now it’s my turn to bristle. ‘You can stop at any time you like,’ I say softly. ‘We’ll manage.’
‘How?’ Shelby snaps. ‘Tell me how?’
It’s not the time to say that I managed perfectly well before Shelby came on the scene. Perhaps that’s stretching it, but we did muddle through. It was a hand-to-mouth existence and that has eased considerably since Shelby came along, but I don’t want him holding that against me.
‘I know that it’s thanks to you that we found the current farm we occupy and you have, no doubt, been generous – extraordinarily so. It’s been fantastic.’ I keep my voice as calm as I can. ‘You really helped to get us out of a hole, but I don’t want you to feel beholden to us. I don’t want you having to take jobs that you’re not enjoying. We can do more fund-raising, like the nativity.’
‘How’s that coming along?’
I can’t really tell him that it’s shaping up to be a disaster. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Slowly.’
‘Christmas isn’t far away.’
‘I know. And this will soon be over and you’ll be home again.’ He doesn’t look as thrilled by the thought as I’d hoped.
Then his expression changes and his face softens. Shelby drains his glass and then looks over at me.
‘Shit. I’m an arse.’ He grasps my hand. ‘You’ve come all the way to see me and yet I’ve hardly spent any time with you. And now I’m doing nothing but complain. I’m sorry, Molly. It wasn’t what I’d envisaged.’
I dredge up a smile. ‘Me neither.’
‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’ He stands and pulls me to my feet too. My toes hurt in my silly shoes. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
We take the lift up to Shelby’s palatial room on the top floor of the hotel. I’d guess that it’s one of the best as there’s a view over the lights of Birmingham from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. I stand looking out over the city feeling like a stranger, an intruder.
He closes the door and then comes to stand behind me, nuzzling my neck. He gathers me into his arms, kissing me deeply. I’d like to say that it feels like the connection between us comes flooding back, but it doesn’t. I don’t really want this intimacy. I wish I’d gone home, back to my comfy caravan and my dogs.
We make love. But, for the first time, I feel that both of us are acting.
Chapter Fifty-Two
I’m awake at dawn. Truth to tell, I didn’t really sleep, only fitful bursts. I’ve not much experience of them, but I’ve decided I don’t like hotel rooms. I was too hot, too cold, too troubled.
Shelby is fast asleep, out for the count. I tiptoe out of bed and look out of the panoramic window again. A pink blush is colouring the city and I wonder if it’s the same at Hope Farm. We get the most beautiful sunrises there. I sigh to myself. Our adventure in pantoland is over. It’s time for us to be heading home to the country.
I text Lucas. Breakfast in five.
Miraculously, he texts me a smiley face straight back.
Then I message Ken, who’s also in the same hotel somewhere, and tell him that we’ll be ready to head off in about half an hour.
Gathering my things, I put my bag by the door. On hotel notepaper, I write a note to Shelby. Thanks for a lovely evening. Hope all goes well today. Speak soon. I only hesitate briefly before I scribble, Love Molly xx
I put the note on the pillow next to him. He doesn’t stir at all, so I creep out. Downstairs, Lucas and I meet at the door to the breakfast room.
‘Did you tell him?’ are Lucas’s first words.
I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t find the right moment,’ I admit and feel as if I’ve failed Lucas. Though, it has to be said, Lucas looks relieved.
‘I think we’ll have to wait until he’s home at Christmas. He might be in a more receptive mood then.’
Lucas looks hopeful. ‘You think?’
‘No, not really.’
‘He’s totally going to lose his shit when he finds out, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
I don’t know why, but we both chuckle – it’s not even funny. I link my arm through his as we walk into breakfast together. ‘That was an utterly crap night,’ is Lucas’s verdict and, I have to say, I wholeheartedly agree.
The breakfast was good, so that’s one thing. As we set off for home, I text Matt to say that we’re on our way back and then nap in the car on the journey. Ken must drive smoothly, as I only wake as we pull up at the gate to Hope Farm.
‘Rise and shine, sleepyhead,’ Lucas says from the front seat. ‘Wipe the dribble from your chin.’
I check, but there’s no dribble. I do, however, feel an awful lot better for a doze.
‘Home, sweet home,’ Lucas adds and it certainly is. I could not be more relieved to get back here. I’m desperate to put my wellies on and get out in the fields. I might have only been away one night, but it feels like an eternity.
Matt comes to open the gate and he’s beaming widely. All the dogs are going bonkers and I feel my spirits lift. I squat down and fuss them all. Little Dog pulls back his lips in the biggest smile. The geese come and honk hello. This is my home, where I am my happiest.